8 Chapter Six

"Cameras are going in ten..."

Nickole pats a final layer of powder on my chin to protect me from all shininess.

"Nine."

Bea is at the back of my head perfecting the complicated array of braids.

"Eight."

Conner makes a final adjustment to the hair framing my face before all three of them melt back into the shadows.

"Seven."

I compulsively check strings running up the sleeves of my dress. It's a short, rusty red, velvet, piece with long sleeves. The outside of the sleeves are split and have a thick marron string running down from my shoulder to my wrist in a shoelacing pattern. The bow-tied at the end keeps getting caught on the lip of the thick glass table.

"Six."

I straighten my spine and work panel in front of me. I run my fingers over the white and blue buttons to my right.

"Five."

I finally look up at Wyatt Andres. The sole person who keeps the conference running. Wyatt lives in Amet and he is the machine behind the Court. He plans the events, coordinates our arrivals, books the photographers and the reporters. Finds the right florists and caterers. Hires the bodyguards for when we go out as a group and controls all media coverage.

He holds up all the fingers on his left hand and continues to countdown silently. Once he reaches zero he points at the table and slips out the door of the conference room.

Faust Family First. Or Legibus for that matter. No one says it but, we are the most important kingdom. We write the laws, we are home to the biggest government representatives and the most powerful influencers outside of the court. Nothing happens in our world without Legibus knowing it. So, Faust Family First.

With one exception. The conference.

We work backward.

Queen Rainn presses the blue button to her right and a transparent image rises from the center of the table. Charts, graphs, and reports fill the space.

"We finished construction on the new greenhouse." She says pulling up a pie chart. "The citrus storage has been running low so the greenhouse will first be used for the fruits."

My grandmother calls Amet the kingdom of hippies. She says that the original savior Lindsey Edwards was a human rights activist and was part of the cleanup crews before the revolution. Their kingdom is in charge of keeping the planet healthy and growing the food.

They continue reporting the semi-annual rainfall and pollution rates. The Exile is still full of radiation but we have it mostly contained. As not to affect the people living closest to it. The animals are healthy and breeding properly. Phillip has the job of reporting how the capitol is functioning. Which is always a snore.

Aedifex is next. They are in charge of production. Clothing, to furniture. They design and manufacture every piece of technology spread across the world. Factory reports are a little interesting, the supply and demand curve is always fascinating to look at.

"The coordination will proceed as planned." King Ronald says once they finish the production reports.

Travis glares at his farther angrily as he says this. "She finds out yesterday and you still expect her to become Queen a month later?"

"Travis." His mother scolds touching his arm. She tries to make it discreet. She fails.

"It is nothing but a small hiccup." King Ronald continues, brushing Travis off. "Stop acting foolish, Travis."

I can see Travis snap. He whirls on his father, a fire in his eyes. "Her sister is dead! She isn't fit to be coordinated!"

His wife. Eloise. Her sister is dead and King Ronald still expects her to be coordinated. I've never seen someone so eager to give up their throne.

"It is the law." King Ronald says through gritted teeth.

Travis lets out a breath and sits back in his chair his face stony. No one misses what he says next. "Then the law is stupid."

I see my father's hand twitch. Travis touched a nerve.

Arguments aren't uncommon. As long as we don't look like we're fighting then it doesn't matter. The conference room is a large circular room with thick glass walls. We sit at a round limestone tablet with dozens of cameras pointed in at us. No one can hear us though. The conversation doesn't leave the conference room.

Felicity clears her throat and pulls up her reports. She drones on about soldier training and procedures. Along with population count and the condition of the atmosphere. They also talk about the progress in the new space station. But I feel the room draw a collective breath when she pulls up a map.

The Exile.

An artic wasteland, formerly known as Antarctica. In the early times of the Burning Period, a country from Asia fired a nuclear bomb into the freezing desert as a power move. The radiation is still bad one hundred and twenty years later.

The artic animals survived the blast, somehow. They don't do much, but they aren't hurting the planet either, so we let them be. The reason the Exile is so important because that's where the banished people go.

One thousand, six hundred, fifty-four people have been banished within the time our kingdoms were born. The number sits next to the map with another number beneath it. Twenty-one. The people in the Exile that are still alive.

"They've made a camp of some sort," Felicity says zooming into the gray abyss. Five tents peak out from beneath some rocky cliffs on the coast. "They're figuring out how to survive down there."

"We should leave them be," Philip says looking at the map. "If the cold doesn't get them, the radiation will."

"We only give them a week's worth of rations," I say. "How haven't starved to death?"

"We think they eat the dead," Roman says.

I cover my mouth with my hand and bite back the urge to vomit. Similar reactions cover the room.

"What's the longest someone has survived down there?" Queen Josie askes.

"Two men, they've been there for seven months." Felicity. "They're both from Obses, they both refused to marry and produce children. They claimed they only needed each other."

My father makes a deep guttural noise in his throat. "Disgusting." He murmurs.

"What if we sent down some soldiers to disperse the crowd?" Travis suggests.

"That's a drain of resources." Roman answers.

"The entire thing is a drain is a drain of resources!" My father says. "We should just execute them and be done with it."

"We do not kill our subjects!" Queen Rainn fires back. "We ruled out execution and the death penalty at the Unity Writings!"

"They are criminals!" My father says his face growing red. "Yet, we let them live."

"The Exile is a death sentence in of itself!" Felicity says.

My father jumps to his feet his chair screeching back. My hand was already hovering over the white button. I smash it with my palm, along with Philip, Roman, and my mother.

A white fog covers the glass immediately. But instead on the thin opaque layer, the comes up when one person presses the button it looks like a thick layer of paint was slathered across the glass.

"We don't kill people!"Queen Rainn shouts, also standing.

"So we let them band together and riot against the Court?" My father demands.

"Let them colonize," I say looking up at him. "Even if they wanted to attack they would be able to get across the sea."

"They could hijack a water village!" My father continues.

"The water villages don't go down there." Philip pulls up a map of the world. Hundred of dots varying in size are floating across the world's water. He glares daggers at my father. "The radiation is one thing, but the waves and storms are enough to wipe out a hundred people."

"The glass is returning." Queen Josie warns.

"Sit down Joshua." My mother scolds pulling his sleeve.

Citizens shouldn't see their leaders fighting. Ever. The white barrier is put up to cover our arguments, but we tell the people that its when a member of the Court shares something personal, something too sensitive for the eyes of cameras. I don't know how many people believe this.

"Felicity," I say. "Look sad. Put your hand on your stomach. Something about the baby." I say as the white grows more transparent by the second.

She looks affronted. "My daughter is not a scapegoat!"

"She is now," Travis grumbles.

The glass clears and Felicity hangs her head and wipes and imaginary tear. Roman puts a hand on her shoulder and she grips it while she pretends to regain her composure.

My family presents. We talk about the riot in the Canals and Felicity promises to make sure the guards were sent. I'm berated by King Dwight and King Ronald for not having selected a spouse yet, but this happens every time an heir is not quick to an important decision.

Once we finish I look at my father. Travis to his and Philip to his mother. "You are dismissed."

We all stand to leave. The King's and Queens a separate meeting without the heirs. To discuss who knows what. Once we are sure the cameras cannot see us we stop walking.

"It wasn't too bad." I start.

"Bullshit," Philip replies. "My head is splitting. I need to go lie down after that affair."

"Don't lie to yourself, Emma," Travis adds. "Nothing good will come of it. Let's order in tonight. I need to go check on Eloise."

"Yes," I say remembering the terrible news. "Go."

I kiss each of the boys on the cheek and go up to my room. It's too hot to open the windows, so I sit on the fainting couch looking out on the sea.

I have my work pannel on my legs, I'm sketching a white chiffon dress. It's short and has an open back, good for days at the Summer Islands. It's missing something. A scarf or belt. Something with golden or red accents.

I open my unused closet to find a couple of outfits that have been left behind by people in the past. There is nothing for me to plunder. I could check a few other rooms. One of them has to have a tie of some sort.

The palace in Aidefex has a strange design. It's only two stories and a hallway with rooms on either side. But from the center of the castle where the conference room and parlor are the halls stretches out into two different wings. Each a kilometer and a half long.

Guests mostly stay in the right-hand side. The Tilems chambers are to the left. I wander further down my hall. I make sure that the rooms are unoccupied when I enter. I find a handbag in the first along with a fine leather belt. I go through four more rooms overcovering a forgotten blouse or hat.

In the fifth room, the curtains are drawn casting the room into darkness. The furniture is covered in dusty white sheets. The floor needs to be swept. I walk over to the closet and push open both the doors.

But instead of finding the scarf I need, I find Philip and Travis. Kissing.

They both freeze and fly away from each other. I felt my legs go numb as my eyes flick rapidly between the two. Travis stares at me a brings his fingers to wipe his chin. Philip rubs his neck.

"Emma-" He starts.

"Oh no!" I say stumbling back and turning away from them. "This is bad!"

My head is swimming, I don't know when I dropped the purse but it sits crumpled on the floor its contents spilling all over the floor.

"Emma," Travis tries. He places a hand on my shoulder and I jerk away.

I feel my breath rattle between my teeth and I turn to face them. Philip is bright red and looking at the ground. Travis has gone pale and stares at me pleadingly.

"Are you two insane!" I practically scream.

Travis rushes over to the door I came through and slams it shut. My brain is going a thousand meters a minute.

"Have you forgotten that you are not above the law!" I accuse my voice lower. "You could be banished for this. It's doesn't matter that you're princes. You have a wife for the love of Daniel!"

I shove a finger into Travis' chest. Harder than I need to. "You're about to become King. Have you lost your mind?"

I turn on Philip and march over to him. "You're supposed to be the smart one! This is not smart Phil! You're about to get married! You can't do this!" Phillip raises his head and his eyes meet with mine.

"You can't tell anyone." He whispers.

"You have a hickey on your neck," I say. I put my head in my hands feeling a headache coming. "Oh my, God!"

"Emmalyne, there's an explanation for this," Travis says touching my arm.

"Don't touch me!" I scream. "I can't- just- ugh." My skin prickles as I begin to pace the room.

I finally walk over to the closet and pull down the first scarf I see. It's black and made of satin. I scoop up the bag and walk over to Philip. "We're going to my room."

I tie the black scarf over Philip's hickey and when he begins to protest I shoot him a look, daring him to take it off.

We walk to my room without speaking once we arrive I drop the bag on the floor and point at my seating area made up of armchairs and a coffee table. "Sit."

I then turn to my servant. "I want orange juice, champagne in an ice bucket, scones, cookies, greek yogurt, macaroons, and coffee delivered up here. There will be no need for you to return afterward."

Once the servant leaves I sit in another armchair and sigh. Philip begins to fiddle with the scarf. "Leave it on." I snap.

Travis looks at me like I've gone insane. "What are-"

I hold my hand up stopping him. "I'm going to need both of you to not talk until the food gets here."

I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. I cross my legs and take steadying breaths.

One, two, three, four.

It only take s a few minutes, two servants come in and lay the food and drinks out on the table and leave just as quickly. I grab a spoon for the yogurt and stick it in the ice bucket. I grab the champagne and orange juice mixing myself a mimosa.

"Are you seriously drinking that?" Travis askes. "It's two in the afternoon."

"Are you seriously telling me what to drink right now?" I demand, picking up the glass.

I take a healthy sip before looking up at Philip. I set down my glass and pull out the spoon. I rip the scarf off of Philip's neck and press the frozen spoon to the bruise on his neck.

"Ouch!" He cries, flinching away.

"I'm helping you," I say impatiently.

Philip takes the spoon and holds it against his skin. I see Travis grab one of the toffee scones as walk into my bathroom. I bring my makeup bag out and pull out some foundation and powder.

"How long has this been going on?" I ask, using the scarf to wipe away the moisture from the spoon.

"The Amet conference," Travis answers, cocking his head at me.

"Eighteen months," I whisper to myself.

As I begin to apply a pale layer of foundation to the hickey and add some powder. I get lost as I put myself to work making Philip's neck look natural.

"Um?" Philip says. "What are you doing?"

I hold up my mirror to show him his new normal-looking neck. "Protecting you from the Exile."

Philip turns his head to examine my work. "Why are you doing this?"

"The law was made so we could rebuild the population. Our Grandparents weren't homophobic. At least mine aren't. Even if my father is. Just because it's the law doesn't make it right." I explain putting my things away.

"So can't we change the law?" Travis follows me as I put my things away.

"The Rules of the World, Trav." I turn and lean against the sink facing him. "I can't change that. Whoever tries to change it will immediately be identified as a homosexual. If we start letting people marry the same sex, then they will stop having children, ruining all the progress we've made the last seventy years."

"Progress." Philip scoffs. "It's a trap."

"You could be trapped in a lot worse situations you know," I say crossing my arms defensively.

"People aren't allowed to with the ones they love. It's stupid!"

This stops me short. I feel my breath catch. "You love each other?"

Philip and Travis exchange glances. They don't say anything.

"But what about Eloise?" I ask Travis.

"It's complicated." He replies. "I care for her. I respect her. But whatever I feel for her is different than what I feel for Philip."

"We shouldn't even be talking about this!" Philip says harshly. "Are you telling our parents?"

I feel my chest burn with rage and hurt at the same time. "Phil."

"Answer the question, Emma!"

"How could you even think I would want either of you banished?" I exclaim, my eyes burn. "You too mean more to me than my parents. I wouldn't do anything to get rid of you. I covered up your hickey! Yet you're accusing me of telling your parents."

Travis looks over at Travis. "Where did that come from?"

Phillip looks distraught. "I'm scared out of my fucking mind, Trav. I thought she was a servant."

They have some sort of silent conversation with their eyes. I look up at the ceiling trying to stop myself from crying.

"I'm sorry Emma." Philip finally caves. "I was out of line."

I nod and wrap my arms around my stomach. Philip tries to hug me but I scoot to the side. "Please don't."

He gets angry again. She won't even touch us Trav. Just because we're gay."

"I don't care that you two kiss in closets!" I cry looking at him. Tears are falling freely from my eyes now. "I don't care that you're gay! Maybe I don't want you touching me because I just found out that my closest friends had been lying to me for a year and a half!"

Their cheeks redden and Travis looks down at his feet. Philip backs up a few steps, frightened by my outburst.

I take a shaky breathe and point towards the door. "Can you just- I need you to leave."

I close my eyes and listen to their retreating footsteps. Once I know they're gone I wipe off all my makeup, much more aggressively than I needed to. I pull off the tight dress and throw on an oversized shirt with spandex. I take my hair out of the ponytail and untangle the many braids before tying it off at the top of my head.

I close all the curtains and shut off all the lights. I grab the plate of cookies and the champagne bottle. I sink onto my bed in the dark and throw my pillow across the room.

So I cry.